


Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

by myheadisapumpkin



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M, as per usual, kirkwall gang antics, oh u thought this was gonna b sad?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 04:42:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20129527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myheadisapumpkin/pseuds/myheadisapumpkin
Summary: The Kirkwall gang come together to mourn their leader, Hawke, when it's gatecrashed by an unexpected guest.





	Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

It had taken months to organise, but Varric finally managed to drag everyone together for a secret funeral in Hawke's honour. Varric was grateful that the Inquisition gave him time away from them, especially since he currently couldn't look at Inquisitor Lavellan in the face. He knew the Inquisitor wasn't to blame: he'd told him so himself. But the longer time went on, the more the thoughts swirled. If Varric had never gotten Hawke involved, this wouldn't have happened. He knew this would put him at risk; it was why Varric had refused to inform Cassandra where Hawke had been from the very beginning. Yet here he was, alive and well, while Hawke was most likely dead in the Fade somewhere. It broke Varric's heart. 

The letters he'd sent to their previous companions had been no less painful. Every word he wrote was a reminder, a reminder of what he'd done. Asked Hawke for help too many times, and his luck finally faded. The last surviving Hawke. 

It was at times like these, as he travelled to the meeting point, that he thought of Leandra. Varric had often spoken with Leandra when visiting the mansion, always leaving with a promise to keep Hawke out of trouble. To keep him safe, because he doesn’t always know his own limits. 

He takes a sip of the whiskey bottle he swiped from the Skyhold cellar. It wasn't long before he left the horse drawn cart, thanking Leliana's agents for getting him this far. The rest would have to be taken on foot. 

Revisiting Sundermount without Hawke and Merrill felt unsettling. The Dalish had long since moved on, leaving behind only traces that anyone had been there to begin with. As he hikes to the very top of the mountain, he's surprised to find he's the first person there. 

He sits by the cliff side, looking out onto the Free Marches. His eyes slide without warning to the Bone Pit, far in the distance, and Varric's guts twist with guilt once more. 

"Never thought I'd see the day you were quiet, Varric." The familiar smooth tone of Isabela's voice graces his ears before he even hears her footsteps. 

"I think if there was ever going to be a day I kept my mouth shut, it would be today." He replies, smiling weakly at her. 

She's changed; not by much, but enough that it's noticeable. Her hair is shorter, stopping at her shoulders, a few silver hairs glistening under the sun.

"Oh come on," she says, taking a seat beside him. "You know Hawke would hate that if he were here. He'd be all like, 'When's Varric going to start telling ridiculous stories that he's altered so much for other people that he doesn't remember how it originally happened?'"

Varric chuckles. "You might be right about that. Even so, I... Can't seem to find any part of me that wants to joke right now."

"Varric -"

"Quite right, too." Two heavy sets of footsteps stomp over, and Isabela beams at the sight of them. 

"Big Girl!" She squeals, jumping to her feet to throw herself into Aveline's arms. 

Aveline, however reluctantly, catches her, allowing the hug. Donnic stands at her side, giving Varric a nod. "It's so good to see you! And Donnic's here too! Is everyone coming to this?"

"Well Varric," Aveline says, turning cold blue eyes onto the dwarf. "_Is_ everyone coming?"

"Define everyone."

"Varric, if _he_ turns up-"

"Darling," Donnic says, gently holding her back. "Today is about Hawke, remember?"

She deflates a little and nods. "You're right," she says, clenching her jaw before glaring at Varric once more. "Let's talk about Hawke, shall we?"

Varric sighs. "Aveline, there's no amount of yelling that you can do that will make me feel any worse than I already do."

"Then you won't mind me yelling anyway." She starts. Isabela and Donnic stand off to the side, deciding it as wise that they don't try to stop her. "What was the first thing we agreed on after we left Kirkwall?"

"We wouldn't tell anyone Hawke's location," Varric replies, head low, as if he were a petulant child being told off by their parent. 

"And what did you go and do?"

"I didn't tell them. I asked Hawke for help -"

"Which was the second thing we agreed on. Hawke didn't need any more trouble to deal with, not after the hell we all went through. You might be mad enough to join this 'Inquisition' but you had no right to drag him into it!"

"We're fighting Corypheus, you know, the guy from that warden keep that we killed? Hawke was there, they needed his knowledge on i-"

"_You_ were there!" Aveline yells, and her voice echoes across the mountaintops, alarming some nearby birds that scatter at the sound. "How was that not enough? Was there anything more Hawke told them that you couldn't have said yourself?" 

“Aveline -“

"Did you know that Hawke was meant to come visit me after your little Skyhold excursion?" Aveline asks, suddenly. "We'd been planning it for months in secret. Constantly changing codes so his messages could never be uncovered. He was going to see Kirkwall for the first time since the Rebellion.” Aveline paces back and forth angrily, the other three watching as she creates a path on the ground from it. “I had a lot to talk with him about.” She says inevitably, with a sigh. Donnic reaches out to comfort her, but she steps away, further into Varric’s space. “Varric, how could you let this happen?”

“I don’t know,” He murmurs, head in his hands. “I don’t know, okay? I’ve replayed it about a thousand times over in my head. I should never have asked him for help, I knew he would come straight away.”

“No, you shouldn’t have.” Aveline agrees, anger draining as she finally taking a seat on the ground beside him.

The four of them remain in near silence for the next few minutes, either too uncomfortable to speak after the last outburst, or simply can’t think of anything else to say.

“Gosh, it’s a bit gloomy looking up here, isn’t it?” The cheerful Dalish voice snapping them out of their stupor. Varric grins as Merrill all but skips over to them. She’s changed as well; her hair’s grown out longer, several plaits littered about, as well as a near-shaved patch on the right side of her head. 

“Oh kitten!” Isabela says, wrapping her arms around her. “It’s been too long. Your hair is gorgeous!”

“I’ve written to you many times, Isabela, you just never answer!”

“I’m at sea, kitten. Quite difficult to track down there, or so I hear.” She glances back at Varric. “Varric sent a whole ship just to deliver me the message. He wasn’t too happy when I brought back all his men tied up and stole their boat.”

“I borrowed that ship from the Inquisition, they expect me to return it. Cassandra will take any opportunity she can to make me pay.” 

“At least someone has some sense up there,” Aveline grumbles. 

“You know that the Inquisition has been the lead helper in getting Kirkwall back on its feet, Aveline? Maybe think about that.” 

“And we were thankful. That doesn’t mean they could take Hawke and leave him in the Fade to die.” Her words come out sharp, making Varric wince. 

“Is he actually dead then?” Merrill asks, tilting her head to the side. Everyone turns to stare at her. “Varric only said he was trapped there.”

“Daisy, there’s no way out of there,” Varric sighs. “He’s not coming back.”

“Well he got in there, didn’t he? He can’t get out the same way?”

“Not this time, Daisy.”

“I see,” Merrill says, her shoulders slouching. “I can’t imagine Hawke dead. It doesn’t seem real.”

“With the way Hawke lived, it’s a surprise he didn’t die sooner.” Aveline says, closing her eyes. “But there was something about him that made him seem… Invincible.”

“Is anyone else coming?” Merrill asks, looking around. “I just assumed Fenris would be here.”

The group stare at Varric. He looks away and sighs. “I wrote to him, but he never replied. My scouts tell me he received it - maybe he doesn’t want to talk to me anymore. I wouldn’t blame him."

“Quit the brooding, Dwarf. That’s my territory.” Fenris says, wandering into the clearing. He looks exhausted; large bags under his eyes, dropping his satchel as he takes a seat on the ground. 

“Fenris,” Varric says, eyes wide. As much as Varric had wanted Fenris to be there, to grieve over Hawke together, now he was here in the flesh... Varric feels empty at the sight of him. “It’s good to see you.” He says, regardless.

Fenris tilts his head and stares at him with dead eyes. “Is it?” Varric withers under his gaze, so devoid of emotion that it seems alien for Fenris. For someone who couldn’t help but have their heart on their sleeve, he seemed void of his anger, his sadness. It makes Varric worry about him even more.

“Fenris,” Isabela says, putting a hand on his. He doesn’t pull it back like he usually would. “Are you… Okay?”

“Shall we begin?” Fenris says, moving out of her grasp as he rises. “I assume we’re not expecting anyone else.”

“About that…” Varric starts, and the next several minutes is an explosion of arguing, old wounds reopened once more. 

“You cannot be serious, Varric,” Aveline glares. “I can’t promise I won’t beat him half to death if he shows his face -“

“Come on, Big Girl; he was Hawke’s friend as much as any of us." Isabela says, defending Varric. 

“He started the mage rebellion! He burnt half of Kirkwall to the ground!”

“Actually,” Varric says, and he almost flinches from the darkening expression on Aveline’s face. “He didn’t _technically_ start it. It happened in another circle first, but -“

“You think it matters who did it first? Varric. You cannot defend him after all that he’s done.”

“Well I know for a fact he’s done a whole lot of nothing but hiding since then.”

“Ah, brilliant. He makes up for his mistake by running away."

“Come on, you know that’s not what I meant,” Varric says, sighing. He risks a glance over at Fenris, expecting him to be foaming at the mouth at this point. But there he stands, staring out across the ocean, completely silent. “Broody? You fancy giving an opinion on this?”

The group of them turn to look at him. He glances back, looking at Varric briefly before dropping his gaze. “It’s fine.”

“Fine?” Aveline says, and by how red she’s getting, Varric has a brief flashback of Cassandra chasing him around a table with the intention of strangling him. “Fenris, you can’t seriously be fine with this. You hated him more than any of us!”

“If Hawke were here, he’d want us to all be civil.” Fenris answers plainly. 

Aveline pauses in her fury to send various degrees of confused looks back and forth to the others. Eventually, she grits her teeth, and says, “Fine.”

“Oh good,” A small voice says, and the group turns to see him. Anders stands there, a rugged beard on the go, wearing shaggy clothes with a hood covering his eyes. “I was hoping you’d stop fighting long enough for me to mention I was here.”

“I take my ‘fine’ back immediately,” Aveline says, before storming across the grass to tug his hood down. “_You_.”

“Oh boy,” Anders says, sighing. “Go on. Hit me with it.”

“I’d rather just hit you, to be honest.” Aveline snarls through gritted teeth. 

“Fine by me. Take a swing-” Anders barely finishes his sentence before Aveline’s fist connects to his jaw. Anders flat out falls on his ass, cradling his face. 

Isabela whistles. “When do I get a go?” 

“Give me 20 minutes,” Anders says, giving her a thumbs up. Isabela cracks a grin. 

“Stop talking, you’re making it much less satisfying.” Aveline says, shaking out her fist. “Right then. Shall we get on with it?”

“Yes, we probably should.” Merrill says, nodding. The group stand around for a moment, unsure what to do. “Varric?”

Varric gets to his feet and clears his throat. “Well, I figured we could go around and talk about what Hawke meant to us. I’m really not big on funerals, so I haven’t a clue how one goes. We don’t even have a body to burn.” At the following silence, he clears his throat. “Anyone wanna go first?”

“I will,” Merrill says, giving them all a smile. “Hawke was probably one of the few people who knew me for who I was, and still loved me. I’ve made mistakes in the past; even when he thought I was wrong, he still did what he could to make me happy. I felt like I’d always have a friend in him.” Her voice gets a little shaky towards the end, and she clears her throat. “I suppose I didn’t really believe he was dead until I got here. I thought - maybe this was more like a rescue mission. That seems a little silly now. Wherever he is now, I hope he’s - I hope he’s at peace.” She wipes at her eyes, and Isabela puts an arm around her shoulder.

“I’ll go next,” Isabela says. “Hawke was many things. A good friend, a hot piece of ass, a sarcastic little shit. He was like an anchor for me. He kept me grounded, made me feel like I had a place in Kirkwall. He had my back when others didn’t.” She grabs a bottle from her bag, popping the cork and knocking it back. She passes it around the circle as they spoke.

Anders speaks up, starting quietly. “He was an ally and a good friend for many years. Even though we were on the same side, we still fought on our different opinions on the matter. Even when I - when I... he didn’t help me. He refused to help me without knowing what it was for. I don’t think he knew what I was going to do, but it was the first time he hadn’t helped me when I asked. I felt betrayed at the time - now, I just look back on it and feel my stomach twist. He was trying to help me, he just didn’t know how to.” 

“I didn’t know Hawke as well as the rest of you - but from what I did know about him, he was kind, and funny, and without him, I wouldn’t be at Aveline’s side like I am now. I will always be eternally grateful for that.” Donnic says, taking a swig from the passed around bottle.

Aveline stares at the bottle that lands in her hands, swirling it gently. “I met Hawke before all of you,” she starts. “We met while escaping the Blight in Ferelden. Back then, Hawke still had a family. His sister, his brother, his mother. One by one, each of them slipped away, one tragic way or another. All the while, I stood there at Hawke’s side. We became Hawke’s family, and I cherished him like a brother. He never ceased to surprise me; over and over he'd show up to the barracks with one insane idea or another. It was this very spot that we came to all those years ago after arriving in Kirkwall, for Flemeth’s inane request. Now it’s this very spot that we mourn for him.” She tips out a small amount of the wine, before handing it along.

The group glances between Varric and Fenris, the last two to speak. Varric spares a glance at the elf, before sighing and reaching for the wine. “Hawke… Was my best friend. I’ve never met anyone like him before, no one that makes me laugh, that makes me cry, that gets me drunk like he does.” He pauses, taking a quick swig, before giving a nervous laugh. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to die, Hawke. I should never have brought you to Skyhold.”

“No,” Fenris adds on, dragging the eyes of the attendees. “You shouldn’t have.” He grabs the bottle from Varric’s hand, downs the entire thing, and drops the bottle to the ground. “Are we done?”

“You don’t want to say anything?” Isabela asks.

“I just did, didn’t I?” Fenris says. “I don’t believe I need to speak my thoughts on the matter.” 

“Fenris, loathe as I am to admit this, but you can’t move on unless you… Talk about it.” Aveline adds.

He pauses, before turning a stern gaze on the group. “You want to talk about it? Then we shall. Hawke altered my entire world view. Before I met him, I could never imagine falling in love with a mage. I could not imagine looking him in the eyes and not seeing Danarius stare back at me. After we left Kirkwall, we travelled together along the Tevinter border, taking down slavers. He spoke more and more of Ferelden as the days past. He was hinting at me that he wanted to return. I agreed, and when we got there, we visited Lothering. The area was only just beginning to recover from the Blight, people had finally started moving back in. Hawke took me to all the spots he used to go to with his family; the chantry with his mother, off by the woods with his father to practice magic. When we got to where his old house used to be, he rummaged through the rubble for hours. I asked what he was looking for, so perhaps I could help - but he asked me to be patient. I waited until he finally yelled he’d found it, before running over to me. He was down on one knee before I could even ask what had been so important.”

“He proposed?” Merrill gasps. 

“He did,” Fenris says with a nod. He slides his hand out of cloak to reveal the gold ring wrapped around his finger. “We went to Redcliffe after that, intending to plan out our next adventure. Until he received Varric’s letter.” 

“He never told me,” Varric says, staring at Fenris’ hand. “Why didn’t he say something?”

“He knew what was at stake,” Fenris answers. “I told him not to go, but he didn’t listen. He just wanted to help.”

“Fenris,” Varric says, devastated. “I’m sorry.” 

“There’s nothing you can do,” is all he replies, before making his way out of the clearing. 

“Not so fast,” a disembodied voice says, sounding remarkably similar to Flemeth. 

A blast of light later, a crumpled body lays on the floor, landing with a thud on top of them. 

The body groans, and Fenris has never turned around so fast in his life. The group stare at the body in shock. 

Finally, after a few moments of laying there, he sits up. 

Hawke stares at them, blinking a few times. He looks exhausted, hair manic as it sticks out oddly, beard long and unkept. He glances around at them all, and smiles, tiredly. “Oh, hey guys. Could you do me a favour and tell me if this is all real?”

“Definitely real,” Varric breathes.

“Brilliant!” Hawke says, jumping to his feet. He dusts himself off, and stretches his limbs. “Oh Maker, I would absolutely _die_ for a blueberry pie right now.” He glances around at the startled expressions. “Is there something on my face?”

“You pillock,” Aveline says, pulling him into a hug. “You absolute fuckwad!” 

“That’s some powerful profanity coming from you, Aveline.” Hawke says, chuckling. “Where are we? Sundermount? Oh, excellent! You know, you wouldn’t believe how much I thought about this place while I was in there. Weird, really.”

“How is this possible?” Varric asks, still staring in awe. “Even by your standard Hawke, this is pretty - unbelievable.”

“Always thinking of the next book, huh Varric?” Hawke says with a grin. “Get in here, you mug.” Varric follows Aveline’s lead, wrapping his arms around their friend. 

“Oh Hawke!” Merril cries, jumping in. “I knew you weren’t dead!”

“You thought I was dead?”

Anders laughs. They all stare at him as he does so, bellowing so hard he doubles over. As he wipes his eyes, he chuckles once more. “Hawke, this is your funeral.”

“No way,” Hawke gasps. “Did you all say nice stuff about me? Not that you’d tell me otherwise, now I’m alive. That’d be very insensitive.”

Isabela clamps onto the growing group hug. “You should have seen it - Aveline socked Anders one, then we all drank shitty wine in your honour.”

“I gotta admit, I’m surprised to see you all in one place again. Really feels like old times.” Hawke looks over the sea of heads to search for another. “Where’s Fenris?”

Standing as far away from the group as possible, Fenris stares at him. Unspeaking, unmoving. Hawke can practically see the gears moving in his head. He also sees the click in his head as he reaches for his sword on his back. “Oh _shit_.”

He’s released pretty quickly once they all spot Fenris’ expression. They’d seen him angry before, but this time he looked downright murderous. Varric breathes a sigh of relief. There’s the Fenris they all know and love. “You.” 

“Me?” Hawke says, pointing at himself.

Smoke is practically pouring out of Fenris’ ears as he rounds on Hawke. “You!” He says, and lunges. Hawke screeches, and dashes out of the way, dodging each blow as it comes. “Can’t!” Fenris continues, swinging the great-sword an inch from Hawke’s face. “Propose! To! Me! And! Then! Get! Trapped! In The -“ He jabs out at Hawke, so close that Hawke falls backwards, Fenris approaching, sword against his lover’s neck. “Fucking Fade!” 

He stays like that, sword held out, breathing heavily. Hawke sits up a little, allowing the sword to press against his armour. “You should just ram it in,” He replies. “I was an idiot. A total moron. I spent every day in there - well, time didn’t really exist, but - I spent every moment in there thinking about you. Wishing I could get back to you.” 

Fenris lowers his sword, staring at Hawke. “Why did you go?”

“It was a pretty serious situation going on Fenris,” Hawke replies. “I don’t know if any of you actually listened to Varric about what happened, but - bad shit is happening. I had to try and help.” 

“Why didn’t you let me go with you?” 

“I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you,” Hawke says, a little sheepish. “However, I am realising the irony in that just now.”

Fenris looks ready to go another round of arguing, or fighting, or whatever they had been doing - but simply drops his sword to the side and offers Hawke a hand up. He stands, and Fenris pulls him down for a kiss - harsh, biting, desperate - hands quickly running down Hawke’s body. Hawke responds in fervour, sliding a hand into Fenris’ hair.

“Okay,” Aveline says, looking away. “We should give them a moment.” 

“Hanged Man, anyone?” Varric says, looking smug. 

“We’ll meet you there,” Hawke manages to get out before Fenris tugs him down into another kissing frenzy. 

**Author's Note:**

> hawke turns up to his own funeral? sounds about right.


End file.
